


Snakes of Memory

by ThoseDaysThatWill



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, It's depressing, M/M, Minnesota Wild, but not as depressing as you might think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseDaysThatWill/pseuds/ThoseDaysThatWill
Summary: The All Star Game brings up a lot of memories for Brent.





	Snakes of Memory

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short vignette. It's not. All errors are my responsibility, but please be kind if you spot them.

The first time I was an All-Star was 2011. Every year it comes around again, part of me hopes I’m not chosen. I’m supposed to be excited about it, and I guess part of me is. The game itself is fun, and this year all the more so because it’s in San Jose. I am looking forward to doing this with Joe and the kids. But part of me goes back to 2011, too, and I find myself feeling guilty for looking forward to this game. Sometimes, I feel guilty about enjoying anything.

I loved Derek. I loved him the moment we met in Houston during the lockout and even more when we made the Wild together. I loved him even when I was following Keith Carney around like the overeager puppy that I used to be. I loved Derek when he bought a snake just so he could call me to have me come over and help him with it. I loved when he’d fight, the energy of the fans screaming for him, the pride he had at his skills. I didn’t know how much I loved him then, and neither did he. But I did. I wish I had been smart enough to see it the way he did.

I have always loved animals, of all kinds. I grew up with them and once I had my own house, it became more of a menagerie than a home. In fact, it became known as Burns Zoo. In the beginning, it was almost all reptiles, mostly snakes. I love snakes, they’re my favorite. Not to say I didn’t have dogs and cats and lizards and fish and whatever else looked like it needed a home, but my snakes were my babies. Derek, for as big and tough as he was, was terrified of my snakes. He never really liked animals at all, but he was outright afraid of my snakes. I would offer to let him hold one, just to see him nearly run out of the room. I found it utterly hysterical, this tough guy that half the league was afraid of, was afraid of my little babies. But slowly, he got used to them, even to the point that he held one of the smaller ones for a minute or two.

Then one day, he calls me up and tells me that he had bought a snake and needed my help setting up his habitat. I drove over expecting it to be a joke, but sure enough he had all the supplies to take care of a small ball python that was staring at him through the plexiglass. He had picked a pretty one, green and brown in interesting patterns. I spent the day helping him set everything up and teaching him everything he’d need to know about taking care of Wendel. At least once a week, he’d ask me to come by because something was up with the snake. One of the times I came over, I brought Keith’s kids with me. I had been teaching them about how to take care of my animals in preparation for them getting their own. Morgan took one look at Wendel and fell in love. I think Derek was relieved when Keith agreed to let her have him. The whole snake experiment lasted less than three months, but it is probably my favorite memory of him. When Keith left the Wild, and me, he left Wendel behind. I still have him.

At the same time, I saw what he was happening to him. Maybe I saw it clearer than anyone else, because I was around him more. Maybe because I knew him better, but I’m not always sure of that. Derek would never have wanted me to see his flaws. Maybe if I had been smarter, we would have dated right off the bat when we met. I blame myself, not him. I was young and dumb, then I was awed by the wrong person, and then I was coming off what I thought was going to be my only relationship. I couldn’t see past my own nose to really see what Derek meant to me back then. And Derek had a lot more going on in his head than he ever talked about. I was dealing with my own head at the time, too. I later learned it was a concussion, but they didn’t know that at the time. They said it was sinuses and nearly everything else but what it really was. If we talked about concussions back then like we do now, both of our lives would be different. But we didn’t.

We were best friends with benefits. We spent all our time together when we could and talked when we couldn’t. But we never talked about the pills. I knew he was taking them. His back hurt, he said. I never saw how many he took, he’d always do it in the kitchen when I was around. But he was different. We’d be hanging out and I’d lean over to kiss him, only to realize he was asleep. Or passed out, I’m not sure. Sometimes he’d zone out, just staring. I’d have to shake him hard to bring him back. Sometimes he wouldn’t get out of bed, and I went to morning skate without him. I was a clueless, sheltered kid, I didn’t know anything about drugs or addictions. I didn’t know what these signs meant. I would ask about concussions, but he promised his head was fine and I believed him. It wasn’t until much later that I had any idea there was a problem. My head was swimming the end of that season, it was a lot easier to just believe what he was telling me. I don’t want to blame my concussion, but it was a factor.

I was one of the few that knew he was still in rehab when he missed camp in 2009. Aaron told me, Derek didn’t. I don’t blame him for wanting to keep it a secret and it was easy for everyone else to believe that he had yet another concussion. Everything was supposed to be better when he got back. We started dating officially that October. He swore he was done with the pills and I believed him. I think he believed himself, too. We were going to be a family and things were going to be fine. I had another concussion the beginning of that season and spent months in miserable pain. Later in the season, after I hurt my shoulder again, I got a call from our trainer. He told me that I had better keep a close eye on the pain meds that the doctor proscribed me. I told him I never bothered to fill the prescription. I know everyone thought I had blinders on when it came to Derek, but I didn’t. Not completely.

I don’t know how long his sobriety lasted, but it wasn’t a whole season. He lived with me, but once in a while he didn’t come home at night. He had friends in town, and I told him I didn’t mind if he had friends apart from me and the team. I told him I trusted him. And I did trust him, I wanted to trust him. I told myself that he just stayed out because he drank too much and didn’t want to drive. No big deal, alcohol wasn’t his problem, he could drink if he wanted. I knew he wasn’t running around on me, that I was sure of. And as far as I’ve ever heard, he wasn’t. Of course, I know now that he wasn’t just drinking. I kick myself every day for letting him go out, but I didn’t want to be his keeper. And I didn’t want him to get mad enough to leave me. Yes, I see the irony of that.

Susan, my fiancée at the time, loved him almost as much as I did and was happy to have him around. Once, when I was playing in Worlds in Germany, Derek stayed with Susan because she was sick. He took care of her, made sure she wouldn’t be alone. He was there when we got married and was just as excited as I was when we were expecting our first child. He did everything he could for Susan when she was pregnant, maybe even too much. That was Derek’s way. He didn’t do anything halfway. He had been suspended for a knee-on-knee a few weeks before she was due and hadn’t left Susan’s side that whole week. She jokingly called him her second husband and I think he liked it. When Peyton was born in March, he was at the hospital. That might have been the most alert and lucid I’d ever seen him, when he was holding her that first time. Maybe I just want to think that. I’m not sure. Peyton loved him as much as I did, and he loved her as much. He really wanted to be a good father to her.

After the season ended, he told me that he couldn’t stay in Minnesota. He had too many friends, he knew too easily where to get pills. It was better for him if he left. He could try again to start over and stay clean this time. For Peyton, he told me. I wanted to believe him, but when he chose to go to New York over Edmonton, I wasn’t sure how genuine his promise was. But I told him I had faith he could do it and that I’d support him no matter what. Because I loved him. It was just before he left for camp that we found out we were expecting our second child. He promised that everything would be fine, and he’d be back in Minnesota by June when the baby was due.

In the beginning it was good. They didn’t like that he wasn’t in the shape they expected, but he proved that he could still do what they hired him to do. But as he fought, the pain returned. He had his nose broken in a fight. I think that’s when the pills started again, but I can’t be completely sure he ever really stopped them. He played through one concussion, just to get another one. He scored his first goal in over two-hundred games in early November. I was suspended for being an idiot three days later. I flew out to New York and we spent a few days basically joined at the hip. It might have been the best two days we spent together. It was great hearing him tell me he loves me in person, being together, watching him play. I heard the crowd at MSG chant his name as he did what he was best at. I saw his smile when he realized what they were doing. I also saw him get his nose broken and winced as the blood stained his jersey. When I met him back in the locker room after that, he smiled at me, pointing out he won both fights. I told him he did a great job but all I was thinking was that a broken nose would make him turn to the pills as soon as I was gone.

 One month later, he couldn’t play anymore. I watched that fight. I saw the lights go out after that hit. I knew exactly what had happened. The team called it a shoulder injury at first. Then headaches. Then a concussion. Then post-concussion syndrome. Then they just stopped talking about him. They set up a meal plan for him, but he told me the food was boring and he’d rather have take-out. He told me there was no point in staying in shape, hockey was over. They told him he shouldn’t go to the rink. They said it was for nausea, but I wonder if he was stealing or trying to get pills. They never said so, but in all my concussions, I never had anyone tell me to stay away from the rink if I wanted to be there. We talked on the phone every day, until he couldn’t stand hearing any sounds. Then he’d text until he fell asleep. I tried to find a time to come see him, but it wasn’t easy with our schedules. And to be honest, I didn’t try too hard to find the time. Derek went from high to low and back to high, sometimes in one conversation. It was exhausting to follow what he was talking about sometimes. Paranoia, depression, mania, all the awful side-effects of what he was doing. I loved him, but sometimes I just couldn’t take it. I started ‘missing’ his calls sometimes. I regret that now, of course, but sometimes I just couldn’t hear him like that.

The All-Star Game came up in January. I invited Derek to come to Raleigh with me, to experience it all with me, as my boyfriend. It was my first All-Star Game and I was beyond excited about it. And beyond excited about being able to do it with him. Originally, I was going to be the only Wild player there, but Marty Havlat was added as a replacement later. They told me they wanted me to do the hardest shot in the Skills. I was so nervous, I’m surprised I hit the net. I didn’t win it, but I didn’t expect to either. Chara ended up setting records and beating Shea Weber. I’ve blocked Weber’s shot and it really hurt, so that’s saying something. Derek seemed to be sober the whole weekend. If he was doing anything, it didn’t get in the way of having a lot of fun. Lights were bothering him pretty badly by that point, so I don’t think I saw him without his shades except in our hotel room at night. And that was with the lights out. It didn’t stop us from using the one king sized bed I had booked. When I think back about him, that weekend is one of the highlight moments I like to think about.  

Late in the season, he told me he wanted to play again. I tried to talk him out of it, the last thing he needed was to get into another fight, get another concussion. I wasn’t sure his brain or heart could take it. We got into a huge fight. He said I wasn’t supporting him, that I didn’t want him to play. I told him I loved him too damn much to see him do this to himself. He said he’d show me, he’d prove me wrong. He said maybe he’d find a Ranger that would support him. And he hung up on me. He had never hung up on me before. He’d never threatened to leave me either. I texted that I loved him, but I didn’t call him back. I will always wish I had.

Aaron told me the Rangers sent Derek back to rehab. I told myself that was the upside to him wanting to come back to hockey. He’d have to get clean to be able to play. I learned later that he had tried to skate and had collapsed on the ice. If I had known, I don’t know what I would have done, but I keep thinking that I would have done something. The truth is, I don’t know what I could have done. I didn’t know how to deal with dating a drug addict. I just wanted to play hockey and take care of my animals and my family. I wanted the Derek that I played with in the beginning. I wondered everyday what would have happened if we had started dating back then. Would I have changed his life? Would he have never started with the pills if he had me? Was this my fault for being so stupid as a kid?

Derek called me on Peyton’s first birthday, from rehab. He told me he loved me, and he was sorry for the fight we had. He was clean and sober, and he promised things would get better. I cried. I told him I loved him and that I knew we could beat it this time. I put Peyton on the phone, and she giggled at him and babbled that she loved him. He was crying by the time I got back on the phone. I said we’d come out there and see him as soon as I could. I wanted to believe that it would work this time. I wanted to believe it more than anything, so I convinced myself that it would be okay. We talked about getting married after our second kid was born. The baby was due in June, and we talked about a July wedding on the beach with just the five of us. We planned a whole future that night. I wish I could have recorded that call, I’d listen to it every day.

We talked on the phone almost every day again. He sounded good most of the time. But even the bad days, we talked through. He hated rehab but he promised it would work this time. When he told me that he was going on vacation with Aaron, I wanted to believe that it would be fine. I’m an optimist by nature and I liked his brother well enough. I wanted to believe that he wouldn’t get Derek into trouble. I didn’t know about what had happened when Aaron visited him the month before. I didn’t know that Aaron was providing pills for him. I had always believed that Aaron had tried to take the drugs from him, that he wanted what was best for Derek. I wanted to trust him. I shouldn’t have. But I was so glad that Derek was going to come see me, I told myself everything was going to be just fine.

I’ve never talked publicly about what happened in those next few days. I still don’t want to. The only thing I want people to know is that Derek was happy and optimistic in those last few days. Susan was on bed rest because she was close to delivery. Derek was very excited about the baby. We talked about what we wanted to name him. He told me how much he loved me. He played with Peyton and told her how much he loved her, too. I’ve always wished she could still remember that day. He was looking forward to his other brother flying in. Ryan was a Mountie, like his dad had been, something Derek loved talking about. He had an event with his military people coming up. He loved being in Minnesota, but things were getting better in New York, too. He had everything to look forward to.

I wonder a lot of things about that night. What if I had gone out with him? I wanted to be home in case Susan needed me. I told Derek I didn’t mind that he wanted to go out with his buddies. He was always more social than me. What if I had pressured him into coming home with me instead? What if Aaron hadn’t left him alone that night? I don’t want to blame him, because they said it wouldn’t have mattered, but I still do. What if Derek had come back to the house? I guess he didn’t want to wake Susan or Peyton up. Maybe Aaron didn’t want to come back to the house. I’ll never actually know why he went back to the apartment in the city rather than the house. But no matter what the actual reason was, it wasn’t what the media speculated. Ryan called me just after he found him, but he told me not to come to the hospital because there was no reason and he wouldn’t want me to see him like that. He told me that there was a picture of the two of us with Peyton on his nightstand and that was probably the last thing he ever saw. I have never cried like that in my life.

His mother asked me to speak at the funeral. I don’t know how I got through it. I went home and cried and hugged Peyton. Friends called and Susan did everything she could to take care of me and screen my calls. I’ve told her over and over that she’s all that got me through it, but she always brushes that off as the least she could have done. I don’t remember a lot of what happened around that time, I spent a lot of it in bed. Aaron tried to call twice, but I refused to talk to him. To this day, I don’t know if he gave Derek more pills than he claims, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he did. He may have been acquitted of that charge, but I don’t know that he didn’t do it. I know I don’t want to have anything to do with him, and I won’t let the kids see him. They know Uncle Ryan and Aunt Krysten, but they’ve never met Aaron.

I called my agent about two weeks after the funeral. I wasn’t sure if I could play in Minnesota anymore. I loved that team, the city, the whole state. My teammates were wonderful, the coaches were good to me, I was playing defense and forward, which was a lot of fun. But even though I had no issues with the team or the staff, I still was sure I couldn’t walk into that locker room again. I wouldn’t have been able to play there without Derek being on my mind every minute of the game. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t want it to make the press, but if he could get me out of there before my contract was up, I’d be grateful. I phrased it that way. I tried not to make it sound like a demand. And then I told him if it wasn’t possible, I would be displaying concussion-like symptoms in October, and I’d miss all of next season. He said he’d do everything he could.

Jagger was born on June 23rd, on what would have been Derek’s 29th birthday. Yes, he was born on Derek’s birthday. We didn’t plan it that way, he decided all on his own to come that day. From the moment he was born, he was Derek’s son. I know Derek would have loved the idea of sharing a birthday with him. When we knew he was going to be a boy, Derek, Susan, and I had talked about the idea of naming a kid ‘junior’. Derek and I were both really against the idea, because we think kids should have their own identity. We agreed that we wouldn’t name him after either of us and I kept to that plan even if I wanted to name him in honor. I knew he wouldn’t like that. Derek had suggested Jagger back then. I liked it, but Susan was on the fence. We added it to the list, but we hadn’t made any choices. After he was born, she put him in my arms and told me that his name is Jagger. I hadn’t cried like that since May. I knew this day was going to be difficult because it was Derek’s birthday, I had planned to spend it alone. But instead I held our son and told him how much I love him and that his other daddy loves him too, from heaven. I promised him that he would know all about his daddy as he grew up. And I’ve kept that promise. Stories about Derek have been their bedtime tales since then.

I was traded to San Jose the next day. I was traded at the draft, which ironically was held in my own arena. I barely registered that the trade had happened, because I was so focused on our new baby. When I first walked into the arena in San Jose, I expected it to feel weird. Maybe it was a little strange that things weren’t where they should have been, the room wasn’t arranged like my old locker room, but walking in that room felt like the fresh start I needed. Over the next couple days, both Joe Thornton and Danny Boyle tried to have the ‘I know it’s hard to be traded’ talk with me. Both of them had been miserable when they were traded in and wanted to tell me that they understood how I felt. Except that I wasn’t miserable because I was traded, but I didn’t try to explain it to either of them. I didn’t want sympathy, I didn’t want sad looks and head shakes. I just wanted to play hockey and go home to my kids. I never said a word about Derek to anyone. I liked my teammates well enough, but I kept my distance at first. Marty was traded from the Wild into the team that summer too, but if he ever talked about me and Derek, no one said anything.

September brought the news of more tragedy to our lives. Pavol had only played in Minnesota for a couple seasons, but he had made an impression of all of us. His sense of humor and work ethic were both things that we all envied and respected. He was the kind of guy that you look up to, probably because he was the first one to tell you not to look up to him. The Wild had brought him in to make Gabby sign a longer contract, which worked. I thought, for a moment, about calling him to offer condolences, but last I heard they had broken up. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to call Peter Stastny to tell him I knew what he was going through. I talked to Brian on the phone for a little bit after the news broke, but I was so numb to sadness that I don’t think I ever really processed exactly what happened.

Krysten called me when she found out the Wild were going to honor Derek before a game in November. The Rangers hadn’t done anything. They made a statement of course. Some of his teammates came to the funeral. Sean Avery talked to me afterwards, and I could actually believe that he was being sincere about what he said, because he understood something about being a player like Derek. Brendan Shanahan had less to relate to, but he was nice enough. He had a few funny stories to share, which I suspect were supposed to make me feel better. I told him they did, but they didn’t. Their GM was there, too, but either didn’t know who I was or didn’t bother to speak to me. A lot of Wild teammates, past and current, were there, but I wasn’t sure if they were there because of Derek or if they were there for me. Either way, I was happier to have them. They were Derek’s friends. I know he was never really comfortable in New York, but I thought they would at least do a video tribute or something. But not a word. The Wild stepped up. I was endlessly grateful that they didn’t do it against either the Sharks or the Rangers. I didn’t want the Rangers to be able to participate and I didn’t want to watch it and then have to play.

I thought about flying out to Minnesota for the day. I had a game the day before and the day after, but that Sunday was a day off. Technically, it was a travel day, but I could have made it. I didn’t go. I taped it at home and didn’t watch it until I got home a few days later. Krysten had texted me that it had been awful, and she was glad that I didn't have to sit through it, but I didn’t understand what she meant until I watched it. I rewound and watched the tribute video over and over. I couldn’t believe they’d done what they did. They showed him smiling with his military charities and leveling great hits. They even dug up film of his couple of goals. But they didn’t show one single fight. Not one. He had over a hundred. They didn’t show one of them in his tribute video. No one signed Derek for goals or hits, he was a fighter. And they ignored that. They gave his family a framed jersey and a painting that I can’t imagine they wanted to look at every day. I barely glanced at it. I couldn’t believe they would dishonor Derek’s memory by pretending that fighting wasn’t why he was in the NHL, what he had been the best in the NHL at. I had never been so angry at the Wild. I almost wished they had ignored him like the Rangers had.

I guess it was sometime after that that I first talked about him. I hadn’t made many friends right away. I had been paired with Douglas Murray to start, but we didn’t really get along. I made the mistake of trying to call him ‘Doug’ and I don’t think he liked me much after that. I guess that was a thing with him, but I didn’t know. He wasn't mean to me, just kinda distant. I had been traded in to take over for some of their D that were getting up there in years, and they all knew it. Danny was pretty nice to me from the beginning. I found out later that was probably because his boyfriend was a player a lot like Derek had been and he could imagine what I was going through. He knew about us because Shane evidently paid attention to other fighters on other teams. Danny told me later that Shane got in trouble because he told his GM that he didn’t want to just be a fighter, that he could do a lot more for the team, but the GM thought that fighting was all he was good for. He said that Derek had been part of the reason why he stood up for that and why he didn't want to fight as much anymore.

Players like them were getting to be afraid of what fighting was doing to their brains. We just found out that Derek did have CTE, one of the worst cases they ever saw. They said that if he had lived, he probably would have had dementia by the time he was 40. They compared his to Bob Probert’s brain, but Derek’s was even worse. It was possible that by the time our kids had grown up, he wouldn’t know who they were. The results gave me more questions. If he had lived, what would our life have been like? I couldn’t help but think about what happened with some of those football players. Could he have hurt me? Or Susan? Or our kids? Or some stranger? I knew, I had to believe, that Derek would never hurt us. Not intentionally anyway. Would he have ended up hurting himself? I always worried about that. Would he have been in pain every day? Did God take Derek because the rest of his life wouldn’t have been worth living? Did he spare all of us for a reason? These were horribly painful and terrifyingly comforting thoughts. I felt both glad and guilty every time the questions floated through my mind. I often wonder if God decided to take Derek on that particular day because he had been so happy and contented for the first time in a long time and God knew that was how he deserved to leave. I try not to think about it every day. I’ve gotten better.

Joe is a big reason behind why. I met him the first day I walked into the locker room. He came right up to me and introduced himself. All his press then said he was a ‘future captain’, but the Sharks had already gone through all the bad press of stripping the C from one franchise player, there was no way they’d do that twice. So, Joe would have to wait a little longer to get the letter on his jersey, the rumors said. They were wrong, but we didn’t know that then. The other Joe, Thornton, was a pretty good Captain, though, so Joe said he didn’t mind waiting. He tried a few times over my first few weeks on the team to engage me in conversations, but I didn’t make it easy. I wonder now if he was practicing his Captaining skills on me back then. If so, I don’t really mind, because he was pretty good at it. At least to me. He told me that because there were two Joes on the team, everyone called him Pavs. He added that I could call him Joe, if I wanted to.

It was on the plane, flying to Minnesota for the first time since I'd been traded, that I first talked to Joe about Derek.

**Author's Note:**

> [[The snake story from Derek's POV, as written by my former writing partner, over a decade ago.](https://vyvolat-hokej.livejournal.com/202588.html)]


End file.
